


Meet the Parrots

by NegaAria



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Bonding, Character Development, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegaAria/pseuds/NegaAria
Summary: Falcon and Mark are finally taking their relationship to the next level. Unfortunately for Falcon that means meeting the parents. Will he survive his first ever Beaks family reunion or will his own emotions get the better of him?(PG version of this story, there is an explicit one so please check it out if you'd prefer!)





	Meet the Parrots

**Author's Note:**

> I already mentioned this in the summary, but there is an alternate nsfw version of this story, so if you like a little smut with your feels please check it out :3 Otherwise enjoy my version of the Beaks family!

Few people were aware that there were farms just outside Duckburg. Falcon hadn’t known, but then again, anything not pertinent to one of his missions he largely ignored, and such locations were rarely loaded with corporate secrets. Still, there he was, on a farm of all places, within a stone’s throw of the city asking himself why he had agreed to this. Really it barely even qualified as a farm. It was rural for sure, but with little more than a small but well-kept barn to even designate it as such. The one thing the place seemed to have an abundance of was old cars—all in various states of in-progress repair—scattered across its acreage. The lack of scenery quickly diminished Falcon’s ability to distract himself, leaving his hands trembling as he struggled to keep his composure.

Falcon’s heart was pounding. Not a subtle knock but a feverish tempo that rang in his ears and left a faint ache at the back of his ribs. It was a ruthless manifestation of Falcon’s fear, and all the mental cursing he could manage wasn’t enough to drown out the taunting voice of his very real anxiety. Falcon growled softly in his throat. It didn’t alleviate that growing sensation of dread, but it did make him feel marginally better to voice his frustration in such an untamed way. He gripped Mark’s hand tighter; he couldn’t remember grabbing it, but he squeezed harder anyway, and breathed a soft sigh of relief when Mark squeezed back.

“Geez, babe, unwind a little, will ya? You’re acting like I’m leading you to a slaughter,” Mark said.

“This is a marginally better alternative I’m sure,” Falcon grumbled.

Resisting the urge to mock that was somewhat difficult, but Mark did manage to pause his one handed texting momentarily so that he could spare Falcon his attention. “Oh, come on, it won’t be _that_ bad. It’s just my family. They’re… well, they’re not _completely_ lame I guess… actually, no. Most of them are horrible. But my parents are gonna _love_ you.”

“Oh thank you, that makes me feel _much_ better.”

Mark huffed disapprovingly at the heavily sarcastic response. “Fine,” he said, yanking his hand from Falcon’s grip so he could cross his arms over his chest, “I guess I’m not _important_ enough for you to meet my family. That’s cool, we’ll just bail and inconvenience everyone. Cool, cool?” 

Falcon groaned and rolled his head theatrically at the painfully cheap display of passive aggressiveness. He stopped Mark in his tracks when he turned to "leave", rubbing his thumb against the smaller man’s warm hand and staring intently at the snow beneath their feet. “Don’t be a brat,” he grumbled, still swirling his finger against Mark’s feathers to sooth his nerves.

The reaction instantly softened Mark’s expression. Ok, so maybe teasing wasn’t the best way to help Falcon at the moment. “It’ll be fine, Gravesy. You got this.”

“Yes, I know. I just…  I’ve never done this _meet the parents_ thing before.”

“Soooo, I’m special,” Mark stated with a playful waggling of his eyebrows.

Falcon chuckled at the response. “You _know_ you are.”

“That’s right! Who’s got the best bf EVER? Mark Beaks does!”

More laughter sounded at the triumphant retort leaving Falcon momentarily too amused to notice that Mark had moved until he had jumped into his arms bridal style and captured him in a one-armed embrace.

“Hashtag Gravesy’s first family reunion!”

Falcon grunted at the resulting flash that followed Mark’s boisterous exclamation, rubbing at the stars in his eyes as Mark fawned over his newest selfie.

“This is gonna get sooo many likes,” Mark squeed softly.

“I always look so stupid in those photos,” Falcon grumbled as he investigated the picture over Mark’s shoulder.

“Oh please, you’re the hottest thing on social media ever.”

“Do not tag me.”

“I’m totally tagging you.”

Mark jumped from his arms and Falcon instantly felt the loss. His boyfriend was still mumbling something about social media, listing off his own Tweeter statistics most likely, but Falcon was hardly aware he was speaking at all. All he could do was stare at that gorgeous red tail that swayed as Mark walked, wishing more than anything that he could rub it between his fingers.

Falcon inhaled deeply, cursing through gritted teeth as he tried to pull himself together. He dropped his head back with an exasperated growl, letting the sound free into the icy air to help ease his frustration. This was so stupid. He faced bodily harm on a semi-daily basis, but the thought of being thrust into the middle of a Beaks family reunion had him quivering like a terrified child. But it wasn’t as simple as that. Not really. The idea of family was almost so foreign to Falcon that it seemed somewhat like a myth, but there was a specific family member in his life that was making this whole concept difficult, and it felt impossibly pathetic to know that he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

After all, there was no way Mark’s father was anything like his own… right?

Falcon’s eyes opened slowly, staring into the ashen sky and watching as the growing snow sparkled at him. There was just enough sun struggling through the clouds to light up the delicate flakes like slowly descending diamonds. He’d thought the sparkle was gone; after all, Christmas was long over. Every twinkling light and shining bauble had been leeched from the city leaving nothing behind but the bitter winds and grey skies of another winter. Not that Falcon minded. There was a stillness about January that he rather enjoyed, and quite frankly he was overdue for a break from his boyfriend’s excess of holiday cheer. Falcon was so accustomed to letting the whole season pass with little more than a faint annoyance at the frivolity of it all that he hardly knew what to do with himself, but Mark insisted (to say the least) that he participate in every silly holiday tradition he could dig up, and Falcon was surprised to find that he didn’t actually mind so much. In spite of his unnecessarily excessive enthusiasm for the whole thing, Mark had made Christmas special for Falcon in a way that he never thought possible. In a way that he would cherish forever.

The thought made Falcon famished for the sight of his lover. He was honestly surprised that Mark had managed to wander so far ahead without him noticing, but a glance at the path ahead assured him that his young employer was indeed still there, phone in hand just as it always was and slender body bundled in far too many layers just as it always was. Only something wasn’t just as it always was.

Anyone who spent any extended amount of time around Mark knew how rare it was to see him without his beak buried in his phone, and for Falcon it was something special every time, but seeing Mark now with his phone momentarily forgotten and his tongue out catching snowflakes it all felt very unreal. The beauty of those lace-like bits of dancing ice paled in comparison to the shimmering silver of Mark’s feathers and the bright red of his tail shown like fire against the otherwise white environment rendering everything else meaningless and drab. It was more than that though. There was something intangible about the young billionaire that consistently drew Falcon in, and it was what had him out there, freezing his toes off in the snow, to meet Mark’s family.

That thought brought reality crushing down yet again, and Falcon groaned at the way his heart resumed its anxious pace. “Damnit,” he said under his breath as he clutched at his coat.

A heavy sigh pushed a cloud of frozen breath into the air, the vapor quickly stolen by the icy wind. Falcon picked up his pace, a few long strides soon putting him at Mark’s side once again. He wrapped his arms around him from behind, instantly stopping Mark’s snow sampling as he buried his beak in his head feathers.

“You okay, big guy?” Mark asked gently.

Falcon carefully considered his response, he himself unsure what the answer to that actually was. “Not really,” he finally decided. “But as long as you’re here, I will be.”

“I got you, Gravesy,” Mark reassured as he soothingly stroked the strong arms wrapped around him. He let Falcon sit there like that for a long moment, continuing the gentle reassurance and just letting Falcon hide his face for a moment while he soak in his lover’s presence. Mark knew damn well that Falcon would be unlikely to show any sort of overt public affection in front of his family, so he gave him that moment to comfort himself as he would soon be unable to. “Come on,” Mark finally said, pulling himself from Falcon’s embrace and recapturing his hand. “We’re already way late. My mom is gonna throw a bitch fit.”

Falcon sighed. “Yes, I know.”

The remainder of the walk was silent. Mark honestly wasn’t sure what to say at that point and Falcon was too lost in his own thoughts to voice anything aloud. In fact, he was actually shocked to suddenly find himself at the Beaks’ front door, face to face with what appeared to a rustic welcome sign with an adorable caricature of a blue bird stating that it was a "tweet to have them here". Falcon’s head cocked at the small, happy bird, suddenly wondering what exactly he was in store for. The doorbell rang and Falcon jumped, clutching Mark’s hand tighter when his heart nearly stopped.

“Deep breath, babe,” Mark coaxed with a gentle squeeze of Falcon’s hand. “Like I said, they’re gonna love ya.”

Falcon did just that, breathing deep and long. It helped, although barely, and it gave him the strength to manage a nervous smile before the door began to open. Instantly Mark could see his entire body tense, Falcon standing pin straight, eyes locked forward and heels together as if he were a soldier about to face their superior officer. Mark chuckled internally at the idea that his father was anything like a drill sergeant, but genuine concern flared up from someplace deep, and it made him nervous in a way he didn’t fully understand. He wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong with Falcon, just that it had something to do with his own father, but he made a mental vow to find out exactly what that was before the night was through.

The old, elaborate, wooden door opened to a small foyer, a rustically casual entry to the home, and in it stood the Beaks. Falcon was given only a second to take in their appearance, but the tall, fashionable woman standing nearly eye level to Falcon instantly took him aback. She was aged with loveliness and bore a striking resemblance to his dear parrot. Her bedazzled beauty seemed so out of place in this very country setting, but had very little time to think about that before that lovely woman was squeeing out her excitement, moving almost too fast to see as she bent down slightly to embrace her son.

“There’s my Marky!” She said excitedly, holding Mark tight and petting his hair lovingly.

“ _Hi, mom,”_ Mark replied with a distinct undertone of annoyance at her over the top greeting.

The embrace ended abruptly, Mark’s mother putting her hands on her shapely hips and staring down at her son with scolding look in her eyes. “Where have you been?” She snapped. “We’re not allowed around you in public anymore, you barely visit, and now you’re over an _hour_ late?!”

Mark responded with an eye roll, turning his attention momentarily to his phone to inform the internet that parents are super lame. “Sorry, ma,” he said, disinterestedly, “Your son is a hot commodity now. _Everyone_ wants a piece of Beaks. Got butt tons of fancy business stuff to do, so I don’t exactly have time for the parentals if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, yes, and we’re super proud of you, but why can’t we at least go to some of your press conferences?”

“Uh, because you’re both SUPER embarrassing?” Mark said as if she should already be well aware of that, glancing up from his phone long enough to look his mother in the eyes as he said it. He pocketed said tech moments later, turning his attention to his other parent while his mother pouted. “Hey, dad.”

“Hello, son,” the man said, stepping forward and capturing his son in a hug that lifted Mark’s feet right off the ground.

“Good to see you too, dad,” Mark said, voice wheezing from the tight embrace.

His father released him somewhat sheepishly and Mark was instantly smoothing his expensive clothing back into place. His gaze drifted slowly to his mother when he felt the pressure of her stare. She was eyeing her son expectantly, hip cocked and arms crossed as she lifted a brow at him. “What?” Mark said, annoyed.

“ _Well_ , are you going to introduce us to your handsome escort or not?”

Mark was somehow bewildered at that. He looked up at his currently flushed and uncomfortable boyfriend, suddenly realizing that his mother had distracted him enough that he completely forgot to even introduce him. “Ah, right. Mom, dad, this is Falcon. Falcon, this is my mother Vivienne. Fashion designer extraordinaire,” he said with a flourish that his mother was silently proud of. 

“Pleasure to meet you Falcon, darling,” Vivienne said, grabbing Falcon’s hand and squeezing it sweetly. “Marcus won’t stop talking about you.” She winked at her son, and Mark groaned in response. “When he _does_ bother to call, that is.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Beaks,” Falcon responded timidly.

“And this is my father, Tad,” Mark continued with a gesture towards the man whom Falcon had been going to great lengths to ignore.

 _This is stupid_ , he reminded himself, _he’s nothing like your father._ Falcon forced himself to look that short man in the eye, finally daring to inspect this person that had him so mentally terrified before he even knew him.

One thing was immediately obvious, Mark’s father definitely _looked_ nothing like his. Every member of Falcon’s family was some variation of the same shade of drab, but this bird was far from visually inconspicuous. A macaw: Falcon had heard of them but he had never seen one. He could recall hearing that they were rather rare outside the tropics even for a parrot, and seeing one now seemed somewhat unreal. The man was covered in bright red plumage, small bits of green and blue accenting his head feathers and a significant chunk of his tail. He tugged nervously on his collar, exposing more blue and green on his neck as he cleared his throat in obvious discomfort at Falcon’s inspection. “Wonderful to finally meet you,” Tad managed with an awkward smile.

That colorful tail flicked back and forth nervously as Tad extended his hand to Falcon. Reflected in those eyes (eyes just like Mark’s) Falcon could see the fear of rejection. Already he could tell this much smaller man wanted approval as much as the raptor wanted his. It seemed the very person Falcon was most nervous to meet was even more scared of meeting him.

“Likewise, sir” Falcon said, with a faint nod.

The handshake was undeniably strange. Falcon had so much height on Mark’s father that it almost felt like shaking hands with a kid, but Tad’s well build frame and calloused hand reminded him very clearly that it wasn’t the case. His muscular arm could be felt in the force behind the handshake, but it was also soft in a way that was rather indefinable. Vivienne may not look like she belonged in this setting, but Tad certainly did. His faded, plaid shirt was unbuttoned just slightly to expose the white undershirt beneath and both were faded with well-worn work just as his hands were. His father was the reason for them living on the farm, Falcon recalled Mark saying, and it was pretty obvious that he was far more at home here than the rest of his immediate family.

“We’re happy to have you.”

“Now get in here before you both catch your death!” Vivienne said, grabbing both her son and Falcon by the coat and yanking them inside.

“Dramatic much?” Mark said under his breath as he began removing his outermost garment. 

Vivienne was inclined to just ignore her son’s attitude for the moment, but Falcon was far more interested in doing anything in his power to ignore his discomfort, and at the moment that meant watching as Mark finally exposed more of his slender form. He took in the sight greedily, savoring every motion as the smaller man slipped from his dark overcoat. The grey sweater Mark had donned for the evening was barely a deviation from his usual style, but enough so that Falcon enjoyed it very much. His usual cardigan had been ditched in favor of a formfitting, hand knit garment that was abstractly winter-like but not in a way that conjured feelings of an out of place Christmas sweater. That combined with his dark (equally formfitting) pants completed an ensemble that practically had Falcon drooling after spending so much time outside in the cold where Mark was far too bundled up for his liking. It was a relief to just observe his boyfriend for a while, but it didn’t last long before Mark’s mother was once again making her presence very well known.

“I got you a belated Christmas gift!” Vivienne said, thrusting the small, but quite lovely, gift bag into Mark’s hands excitedly. She was bouncing on the soles of her feet as she bit her beak and waited impatiently for Mark to open the package. Instead all Mark did was side eye her with distrust making Vivienne whine impatiently. “Go on open it,” she coaxed.

Mark was still giving her that look, but he reached blindly into the bag nonetheless, wrapping his fingers around the small bottle within. He immediately grimaced at what he retrieved. “So smooth,” the label claimed. “Like liquid silk,” the catchphrase said. “Enjoy your lover to the fullest,” it taunted. Mark sneered while simultaneously cringing at the blush on his face the likes of which only his mother could elicit.

And she wondered why he didn’t visit more.

Mark gave her his very best "are you fucking serious?" face but Vivienne merely shrugged it off. “I was just—”

“ _What_? Sticking your big beak into my love life AGAIN like it’s supposed to be normal?!”

“Wellll, you were gushing about your new boyfriend, and some of the girls were telling me about this stuff, and I thought Tad might like it, but I wanted to know it was good first s—”

Mark covered his ears with a furious yell. “MA! Oh my god stop! What is WRONG with you?”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, dear. Your dad loves butt stuff so I know all about what you boys are up to.”

“MOM!” 

“VIVIENNE!”

The demand for her to stop came simultaneously from Mark and Tad, both father and son now wearing the same shade of humiliated red. “Okay, okay!” Vivienne replied, throwing her hands into the air in a show of surrender. “I get the hint.” She linked arms with Tad, intent on leading her poor, embarrassed husband away from the current source of his shame. Still, that didn’t stop her from leaning back and whispering to her son, “Seriously though, tell me how you like that stuff.”

His mother couldn’t help it. Even as he glared at her Mark could tell that she genuinely couldn’t keep the comment contained, but that hardly made him any less cross. “MA! For the last time, I don’t wanna hear about whatever gross sexual stuff you get up to with dad! It’s a miracle I’m not in therapy, ya know!” 

“You’re such a drama queen, dear,” Vivienne replied, flipping a wrist at him dismissively as she continued to lead Tad away from them.

“I learned from the best, _mother_ ,” Mark grumbled. If she heard she didn’t acknowledge him, which seemed to just intensify Mark’s anger.

The young CEO was obviously one push away from throwing a tantrum, but Falcon grabbed his hand, momentarily preventing him from storming after his mother by threading his fingers tightly with his. That ridged, needy hold reminded Mark that there was something more important that needed attending. Red looked good on Falcon: Mark noted. He had turned such a stunning shade of scarlet that Mark was momentarily mesmerized, but he quickly shook it off so that he could at least attempt to help his currently suffering boyfriend. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling extra awkward about the degrading scene that was so typical of his mother. “I’m so sorry, Falcon,” he said, rubbing a hand across his eyes so he could hide his own shame for a moment. “I was reeeally hoping she _wasn’t_ gonna do something like this for once.”

“It’s okay,” Falcon replied, still unable to actually look Mark in the eye.

That was probably as good as it was going to get for now. Mark squeezed Falcon’s hand gently, finally persuading the other man to look at him now that he was sufficiently de-reddened. “Come on, loads more family to meet,” he said teasingly.

“I can hardly contain my exhilaration.”

Apparently the facetious retort wasn’t enough to distract Mark, and he was soon dragging Falcon further into the large farmhouse, bringing them closer to the once muffled sound of what felt like hundreds of voices. That was hardly the case, but the closer they got, the more Mark’s family began to feel like a lurking army. A few turns in the old home and the ambient hallways gave way to the large family room as well as the large family within. Falcon wasn’t quite sure what he expected, but surely this wasn’t it.

The entire room was a blur of silver and red: a dizzying display of fervor that Falcon could barely process. African greys filled the home, each apparently vying for some sort of dominance by demonstrating every form of chaos imaginable. Children screamed and mothers gossiped, and it was quickly apparent that the “Beaks” family reunion featured very few actual Beaks. Mark had mentioned that his mother’s family was large, but somehow that hadn’t prepared him for _this_.

“ _MARK_!” Every single one of Mark’s cousins greeted him in unison, quickly forming a pintsized parrot mob that surrounded the most famous member of their family.

“S’up fam,” Mark said with a nonchalant wave. 

“Hey, hook a cuz up with some free Waddle coin,” one of them said, not bothering to look up from his smartphone as he spoke.

Mark lifted a disgruntled brow at him. It was the only cousin anywhere close to his age, and he also happened to be the biggest pain in Mark’s ass. “ _Cooool_ , how about no. You are way low on the cousin hierarchy, Trent,” he scoffed.

“Come on, you’re like, a billionaire.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

“Your new app is like the coolest thing ever!” another cousin interrupted.

Mark smiled down at the enthusiastic young girl. “See, _Rubi_ knows how to be a quality kiss ass,” he said.

“Mark, stop playing with the kids and introduce everyone to your boyfriend,” Vivienne demanded from across the room where she was currently setting a ludicrously large table with her sisters.

“Family, Falcon. Falcon, family,” Mark answered lamely. The scolding look from his mother made him roll his eyes so hard they nearly collided with the back of his head, but he gave in anyway, taking a deep breath and introducing his family in one long (hastily delivered) sentence. “TammyTommyChipAuntClaraAuntJoTerenceLoraRubiwithaniTrentTerraJessieAuntLaraTimDannyTrevorTanyaAuntMabelTroyBernie annnnd Great Aunt Nora, but we all call her Bubby.” A resentful snarl from the other end of the room alerted Mark to the fact that he had forgotten someone. “Oh yeah, and the disgruntled, drunk dude in the corner is Uncle _Ted_ ,” Mark said, his tone demonstrating their shared distain for one another.

“Marcus, poor Falcon is never going to remember anything if you say it like a crazy person” Vivienne noted as she fussed with Mark’s head feathers. 

“Tammy, Tommy, Chip, Aunt Clara, Aunt Jo, Terence, Lora, Rubi with an i, Trent, Terra, Jessie, Aunt Lara, Tim, Danny, Trevor, Tanya, Aunt Mabel, Troy, Bernie, Great Aunt Nora, but everyone calls her Bubby,” Falcon paused briefly to stare in Ted’s direction. “And Uncle Ted.”

The room stilled. Mark’s family stared with expressions ranging from mildly amused to marginally freaked-out but every one of them clearly demonstrated their shock, and it instantly made Falcon self-conscious. It hadn’t really been intentional, relaying information was just something instinctive to him, but he was certainly regretting it. He cleared his throat awkwardly, fidgeting with his jacket in an attempt to ease the discomfort that all those stunned eyes produced. “I am very adept at memorizing information,” he muttered. “…. You have an abnormal ratio of T names in your family.” 

“I know right? What’s up with that?” Mark said. 

It wasn’t exactly helpful, but there was something comforting in the fact that at least one person in the room didn’t find his freakish memory weird. That did nothing to diminish the apparent novelty of his presence, however, and he was soon surrounded by Mark’s family, forcing him into answering way more questions than he was comfortable with. Or rather, he attempted to answer them. The inquiries were fired in such rapid succession by so many different voices at once that he barely even had time to process them let alone respond, but the parrot pack was soon dispersed by a rather forceful intervention courtesy of Vivienne who demanded help with anything she could think. A brief wink over her shoulder confirmed Falcon’s suspicion that it was purely for his benefit, and he gave her a thankful look in response.

“Ugh, finally,” Mark said. “I know my man is hot stuff and all, but that was getting old _super_ quick.”

A sarcastic snort from across the room instantly, and with very little provocation, sent the young CEO into offensive mode. The abrupt change in attitude drew Falcon’s attention to the one bird in the room who was very obviously not a member of Vivienne’s family. _Uncle Ted_ , Falcon mentally repeated, Tad’s brother. It hadn’t been explicitly said, but one glance at the man and it was heavily implied. They were obviously the same species despite their drastic difference in hue and stature, and he was the only one in the room who wasn’t engaged in an informal game of who could make the most noise. He seemed far more interested in seeking out the nearest corner and getting smashed on posh wine than anything else, but he had obviously taken an interest in scoping out Mark’s new partner, and the observation was already making Falcon’s skin crawl.

“What? Got a problem _Ted_?” Mark snarled.

“Yes,” Ted replied, “You.”

“Ooo killer originality. So what else is new?”

Ted clicked his tongue noncommittally, finishing the wine in his hand in one swift gulp so he could ditch the glass before advancing upon his nephew. “Is this supposed to be exciting or something?” he challenged. “You paying your floozy bodyguard way too much money to show up here with you supposed to _impress_ me?”

Mark glared furiously but was otherwise too enraged to reply before his uncle could continue.

“This isn’t the first piece of gay eye candy you’ve paraded around here and they’re all the same.”

“Shows what you know!” Mark snapped. “Falcon may not be the first, but he’s nothing like any of those other lameos, and he’s the only one that matters!”

Ted laughed mockingly. “Oh please, you really expect me to believe that THIS guy would go anywhere near you if you weren’t paying him for it? Don’t make me laugh, Marcus.”

Falcon could see how deep that ammo pierced. Those words were a spear that impaled Mark’s heart on the spot and despite the unmovable sneer on his face Falcon could see his eyes begin to water ever so slightly. One of Mark’s biggest insecurities was that Falcon might reject him if he did anything to jeopardize the ludicrous salary that his favorite employee was paid. Falcon knew it, but he had yet to convince Mark that it was in no way responsible for their relationship or even necessary as his doting boyfriend insisted on spoiling him so much that Falcon didn’t even _need_ a salary. If Flacon was being honest, there was something painful about the fact that Mark seemed unwilling to believe him, but the exchange between the two parrots made Falcon realize that with every other person Mark had “dated” it truly had been the case.

That information made him furious. The fiery anger seethed from his narrowed eyes as he turned them on Ted. He didn’t like this man. He was cold, arrogant, and more than just a little rude to everyone, but he obviously reserved a particularly vicious form of malice for Mark that made Falcon’s anger almost uncontainable. For the first time since they had arrived Falcon’s nerves had settled, because that all-encompassing feeling of rage made him incapable of feeling anything else. If it hadn’t been for the fact that this man was a part of Mark’s family, Falcon would have ended him on the spot. Instead, he settled for a telling snarl that made very clear all on its own exactly what Falcon wanted to do to the man that dared upset his precious parrot.

“What? Got something to say, _boy toy_?” Ted said with a sneer. “You even got a thought in that head or are you as epically brainless as the last three?”

“TED!”

The angry yell stopped Falcon in his tracks. He hadn’t even noticed he moved. His eyes widened as Ted’s attention was stolen from him, gripping at his once again pounding heart as he realized what he was just about to do before Mark’s father had come to the rescue.

Tad grabbed his brother roughly by the arm, yanking him away from what had almost been an all-out fight with Falcon so that he could scold him quietly. Or at least he tried to be quiet. The exchange had left Tad so uncharacteristically upset that he could barely control his own desire to hit his ever abrasive sibling. “You SWORE you wouldn’t do this. You promised me, and you’re already breaking your word! If you won’t mind your manners you can just _leave_!”

The whisper was harsh. It hissed through his twin’s teeth so furiously that it held an almost tangible force behind it. Ted clenched his beak and inhaled deeply. He may have next to no consideration for any other person in the world, but his brother was his world and if playing nice was what it would take, he would do it for Tad’s sake… as nice as he was capable of at the very least. “Fine,” he said. “For you I will do my best to be cordial to Mark’s new whore.”

Tad cocked a distrusting brow, nonverbally scolding Ted with his expression.

“…scouts honor,” Ted added.

It was hardly the sort of repentance that Tad had been hoping for, but it would have to do for now. “Come on, Viv still needs help,” he said as he not so subtly prodded Ted towards the kitchen.

“With _WHAT_? You’re the only one who always does all the work.”

That earned him a glare.

“Fiiine,” Ted conceded, “Let’s go help the _family_.”

It was a thinly veiled excuse to get his brother away from the currently seething couple behind them, but no one bothered to acknowledge it for what it was as long as sufficient distance was placed between them.

“Please tell me I’m allowed to murder that man,” Falcon hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.

Mark sighed with genuine disappointment, threading his fingers tightly with Falcon’s where they were instantly squeezed in a death grip. “Sorry, Gravesy. That’s crazy tempting but pretty sure dad would be heartbroken.”

Falcon scoffed at the response. “Can’t imagine why.”

A small smiled beamed up at him as Mark silently showed his appreciation of his boyfriend’s protective nature. “Tell me about it,” he said with a laugh.

The flippant attitude didn’t seem to help Falcon’s mood much. There was probably very little that could help at the moment, but Mark held his hand tightly just in case it might. It certainly didn’t considering he led him straight back into the heart of the parrot horde, but Falcon found it admittedly preferable to more interaction with Ted. Even if it did mean he had to deal with a new round of prying questions. The sudden change in tone made Falcon yank his hand away from Mark’s self-consciously, and they both instantly felt the loss. Mark knew it would be pushing Falcon’s comfort even more to force him to reestablish the hold so he didn’t, but it was difficult.

The entire night would prove to be difficult for Falcon. Time dragged on almost painfully as they waited for dinner to be finished, and he was seriously starting to wonder what could possibly make less than an hour feel like more than ten. The only relief came when a small spat between Mark and Vivienne (something about keeping her mothering away from his hair style) finally took the attention off of him long enough for the room to feel somewhat less claustrophobic. However, that in turn bred another problem. As the novelty of Falcon’s presence slowly wore off, the decibel level in the room began to rise exponentially.  Apparently Mark wasn’t the only vocal bird in the family, and it was quickly becoming obvious that yelling was simply how the “Beaks” family communicated.

Falcon didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t expecting this; more than that, he wasn’t sure he could handle this. Even Mark was too preoccupied with his pleather of cousins and phones to notice his boyfriend’s current turmoil. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Falcon gripped at his own arm, digging his fingers in deep and breathing rhythmically as he clenched his eyes shut and attempted to force that horrible sensation away.

“Falcon? You alright, son?”

That soft touch on his arm came out of nowhere and Falcon jumped at it, pulling away instinctively as he struggled to think through what felt like a migraine. Dizzy, head pounding, nauseous: yep, sure felt like a migraine. It took a moment for Tad to even come into focus let alone register as Mark’s father, but the reminiscence of that pressure on Falcon’s skin tingled as if the other man’s concern was literally lingering on his feathers. It wasn’t really that gentle contact that had his mind reeling, however; no, it was something else entirely, and Falcon was so unaccustomed to it that he didn’t even recognize it for what it was: it felt rather pleasant to have this man call him son.

The longer Falcon remained silent in his shock, the more that look of worry on Tad’s face grew, and it finally shook him from his stupor. “Yes, sir!” he said a little too hastily to be convincing. “I-I’m fine.” Falcon grimaced at the expression on Tad’s face that confirmed that he didn’t believe him.

“Come with me, I’d like to talk to you,” Tad said, turning away from the chaos and motioning for Falcon to follow.

Falcon hesitated, glancing towards his still preoccupied boyfriend who was currently being doted on by his great aunt. That simple observation led to a full room scan and a revelation: Tad was the only one who had noticed he was upset at all. Falcon was grateful for that. The only problem was that Tad wasn’t _really_ the only one who noticed.

As Falcon turned to follow Tad he caught a hint of fidgeting blue out of the corner of his eye. He had missed it during the first scan, but there was Ted, pressed into a shadowy corner and scowling at him. The sight tugged Falcon’s face into an even deeper frown, and that scowl grew until it matched the other man’s look of disgust. It was quite apparent that Ted fully intended to make his disapproval of Falcon undeniable, and the fact that his beloved brother apparently wanted some alone time with him seemed to further enrage the already surly man. The two twins naturally elicited such different visceral responses that it made Falcon’s stomach churn, but he shook off the feeling with a scoff, demoting all thoughts of Ted to subconscious static in stubborn refusal to acknowledge the distinct unease that the parrot made him feel.

A few steps away from the commotion and already Falcon was feeling less tense; a few more steps and his spine relaxed long enough for him to investigate his new surroundings. The hallway he was being led down was lined with family photos—small glimpses into Mark’s past that left Falcon mesmerized. They painted a clear picture of a spoiled only child, well off and constantly the center of attention, but at the same time Falcon could still see the insecurity and restlessness already shining in Mark’s eyes even through the lens of frozen past memories. It made him wonder how it was that he seemed to be the only one who could see it.

A soft click signaled their arrival at the small sanctuary that Tad had led him to. He opened the door wordlessly and entered just the same. Falcon was quickly learning that he was a man of few words, but there was honestly something he found rather comforting about that. Falcon glanced curiously around the small and likely seldom used office that they were now in, taking the unspoken cue from his host to close the door behind him.

“Would you like a drink?” Tad asked from across the room where he was currently rifling through his small collection of expensive alcohol.

“ _Please_ ,” Falcon responded.

Tad smiled at the gratitude in his tone. Apparently they both were in need of something relaxing to ease the pain of the already obnoxious family get-together. He dispersed a little more than a shot into each glass before making his way towards his uncertain guest who was still standing by the door. “Have a seat,” Tad coaxed as he handed over the expensive scotch.

Falcon still looked a bit unsure; he watched the other man as he sat in one of the large leather chairs, investigating his movements as if he had forgotten how the action was supposed to work. Finally he eased himself into the seat across from Tad, settling in with all the apparent comfort of lying on a metal slab. “Thank you, Mr. Beaks,” he said softly before tipping the pleasant liquor down his throat.

“Please, Falcon, call me Tad. I know when most people say this they’re referring to their father, but in my case uh, Mr. Beaks is my son,” Tad said with a laugh.

Falcon snorted softly. “Fair point,” he said. “I will do my best.”

Tad was apparently pleased by that answer, but his expression quickly turned more serious. “I wanted to apologize for my brother,” he said.

Falcon cocked a curious brow when Tad struggled to continue, but waited wordlessly for him to sort out his thoughts.

“He’s… well, he’s-”

“A highly deprecating sociopath who deeply resents his only nephew?” Falcon offered with a barely mitigated sneer.

“To put it mildly,” Tad muttered with a sheepish rub to the back of his neck.

“Yes, I gathered.”

Tad sighed heavily, standing from his seat and making his way towards his rarely used desk to retrieve one of the photos that sat upon it. “He thinks I spoil Mark,” he said as he stared somewhat forlornly at the picture in his hands. “I suppose he’s right. I just… wanted my son to have the things I never did.”

Falcon’s expression softened at that. Tad was so emotionally honest that it was somewhat difficult to wrap his head around it, but whether he understood it or not, he did want to know more about the man who had raised his beloved parrot. He had been the house husband, the main caregiver, and he was so close to the complete antithesis of Mark that Falcon almost didn’t believe they were related at all.

“We were orphans, you know,” Tad spoke quietly, interrupting Falcon’s thoughts.

The whole-hearted emotion in those words drew Falcon into deep observation. The lack of eye contact made it somewhat difficult for him to tell if Tad was actually addressing him or just talking to himself, so he simply watched as if he might be able to view those memories with him through surveillance alone. 

“We were just kids,” Tad continued, “and he was all I had in the world.”

“Mark did mention something about that.”

“Hmm, he was always trying to protect me… even from my own son.” Tad was silent for a while before apparently shaking himself back to reality with a slight blush and an uncomfortable laugh. “Not that it excuses his behavior, mind you. I just wanted you to understand.”

Falcon took that to heart with a gentle nod. Considering the pervasive hate that constantly surrounded his boyfriend he could certainly understand that. Not that it made him dislike Ted any less.

“You’ve been really good for Mark,” Tad said.

That took Falcon by surprise. It didn’t seem possible, but apparently Tad had some uncanny ability to tell exactly what he was thinking and it was both terrifying and oddly comforting. He returned his full attention to him with a look of shock that indirectly asked for clarification.

Tad chuckled softly at it. “I suppose most people wouldn’t notice, but I see how much happier he is.”

Falcon found himself unable to actually respond to that, but his barely there smile voiced his approval for him.

“I know you probably get a lot of Ted’s type of attitude,” Tad said.

It shifted the mood rather unpleasantly, but Falcon supposed he couldn’t fault him for pointing out the obvious. “More than I’d like to admit,” he grumbled.

“I know he’s your boss, and you probably have very little in common.”

“So everyone keeps reminding me.”

“I also know you’re closer to my age than his.”

Falcon suddenly looked very ashamed; he could handle the acknowledgement that their relationship shouldn’t work given their vastly different personalities, but being confronted with their age difference always managed to make him feel like some sort of predator, and he was suddenly terrified at the idea of his potential future father-in-law feeling the same. 

“That’s ok though!” Tad instantly reassured, placing a comforting hand on Falcon’s shoulder in an instinctive show of paternal care.

It was too strange. Falcon had never experienced anything like this. This man whom he had only just met had shown him more affection in this short time than his own father ever had in his entire life. More than that, he was literally incapable of it. Falcon’s father was a stone-cold mountain, a living force of nature hell bent on dominating everything in its path, and in that moment he found someone who was practically still a stranger feeling more like family to him that his own parents ever had.

“There’s nothing wrong with any of that! I guess I just,” Tad trailed off once again rubbing uncomfortably at his own feathers as he searched for words, “I’m sorry, son. I’m… really bad with this sort of thing… Vivienne usually does all the talking.”

“I certainly know how that is,” Falcon said with a lopsided smirk that inadvertently gave Tad the courage to continue.

“I suppose I just wanted you to know, that I understand... Everyone said Viv and I didn’t have a chance. I guess they should have been right, but here we are married nearly 30 years and still proving them wrong.”

He couldn’t have known that’s exactly the sort of thing Falcon needed to hear; there’s no way he could have known, but still, he somehow knew it instinctively, and Falcon found himself uncharacteristically emotional about the whole exchange. How this small man—an obvious ideal of masculinity—could display such sincere sensitivity was beyond Falcon’s ability to comprehend, and it had him struggling to produce even the simplest of answers. Tad noticed, but did nothing to acknowledge it beyond once again placing a hand on Falcon’s shoulder and squeezing gently before returning to the previously established alcohol collection to refill his glass.

“I suppose this is selfish on my part as a parent, but I just don’t want you to ever give up on him just because of what other people say,” Tad said as he swirled his drink absently.

“Never,” Falcon answered softly.

“I know they can be a bit… mortifying at times,” Tad said.

“And self-centered.”

“Shallow.”

“Insufferably moody.”

Tad chuckled. “But we love them anyway, right?”

“ _Damn_ right,” Falcon replied with a conviction that made Tad mimic his broad smile.

“Thank you, M…Tad,” Falcon said.

Tad’s smile grew at the welcomed use of his given name. “Any time, son,” he said.

They shared a moment of mutual silence and respect. It was a brief reprieve from the world, and for the first time that evening Falcon was truly at ease. Not that it lasted long before their private realm was loudly invaded.

“Tad!” Vivienne screamed through the door. “Get out here! There’s at least three things that may or may not be about to burn and your recipes make no sense! …What the hell even is a chinois?!”

Tad chuckled softly at his wife’s typical overreaction. “Duty calls I suppose,” he said. “Dinner should be about ready.”

It wasn’t specifically stated, but Falcon knew that meant he would now have to subject himself to Mark’s family once again, and it had him regretting not drinking far more alcohol than he had. He was sure the soft noise of terror he made was audible (if only faintly), but luckily Tad was already too far away to hear it. Falcon took a deep breath to steel his nerves before following.

The many seats at the large table were quickly filling, and Falcon was already dreading the start of what he was sure would be a painfully long and awkward meal. The discomfort had him moving towards his boyfriend as quickly as his long stride would allow. All he wanted at that point was to be as close to his beloved parrot as possible. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it far before he was shanghaied by Mark’s two eldest aunts, each one grabbing him by an arm and leading him to the table.

“Oh, Falcon dear, we _insist_ you sit with us,” Aunt Jo said.

“ _Definitely_ insist,” Aunt Clara added as they pulled him into the seat between them.

All of Mark’s aunts apparently shared the problem of being "perpetually between husbands" so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Falcon that he was hijacked in such a way, but that didn’t stop the shock from instantly taking hold. “I-It would be a pleasure to dine with you ladies,” he managed even as his toes tensed until his talons dug into the floor and his feathers prickled at the close proximity of the two older women.

They both giggled at the way his voice pathetically raised an octave when Jo—the younger of the two—placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed.

“OMG stop molesting my boyfriend!” Mark scolded as he settled in the seat directly across from Falcon. He knew better than to argue with his aunts about having hunky British beefcake dining between them, but Falcon was thankful he at least chose the next best option to sitting beside him by sitting across from him. Any sort of sexual attention from women made him uncomfortable, but having the source of that attention be relations of Mark’s compounded the discomfort tenfold.

“You know if you ever get tired of having a little brat for a boyfriend my door is always open,” Jo offered with a flirty fluttering of her eyelashes.

Mark didn’t think it was possible, but he could see Falcon tense even more at the coy proposition.

“That is extremely faltering,” Falcon said with a nervous laugh, “But I assure you ma’am, I am quite gay.”

Clara huffed softly. “The good ones always are.”

Falcon wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer that or even if he was supposed to answer it at all, so he turned to Mark with anxious eyes to beg for some sort of guidance. In response Mark made an inhalation motion with his wrist—one of his silly yoga things—silently telling Falcon to just breathe. Falcon attempted just that, but that breath jammed in his throat when yet another hand was placed on his thigh, making his feathers bristle and his eyes widen when Clara leaned in close. “So, tell us about yourself, gorgeous,” she said.

“I-” Falcon paused, clearing his throat to remove that unbecoming squeak from his voice before completing his thought. “I am head of security at Waddle, and your nephew’s personal bodyguard, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, we know that, dear,” Jo interrupted, “She means what do you do besides babysitting Mr. hot shot CEO over there?”

“DUH, I told you mom, he’s a spy!” one of the cousins said.

“Yeah, he took Mark hostage!” another chimed in.

“He’s the first wave of the British invasion!”

“And scourge of the deep web!”

“He almost took out all of Waddle with one punch!”

“He tortured everyone!”

“With kissies!”

Mark cocked a brow at the small girl beside him, smirking slightly at his youngest cousin who currently looked very proud of herself for contributing. “Yeeeeah, almost none of that is true. Except the kisses thing. That’s super legit and you can totally post it.” He winked at Falcon despite the disgruntled look on his boyfriend’s face.

Aunt Mabel sighed dreamily, perching her elbows on the table so she could rest her chin on her hands. “Sweet Stockholm syndrome,” she said. “It’s like a romance novel.”

“Oh, gimme a break,” Ted grumbled under his breath.

It was barely audible, but that quiet comment sparked a full family debate in the form of all out vocal war. The voices rose until nearly every member of Mark’s family was screaming. Falcon winced as if the auditory assault had literally just attacked him. It certainly felt like it was attacking him— brutally and without an ounce of mercy. This whole experience was preying on every insecurity he possessed, pulling them all to the surface at once and combining them into one force that proved insurmountable.

Falcon jumped from his chair, quickly trying to down play the fact that he just bolted from his seat as if it had spontaneously combusted. “Please excuse me for a moment,” he managed with an averted gaze.

Falcon didn’t wait for a response. At least half the family didn’t notice him leave anyway, but Mark definitely did, and he stared after him with concern in his eyes.

That loving worry was lost on Falcon as he quickly retreated. He was practically running by the time he reached the large but unadorned staircase that led to the second story. He took the stairs two at a time, unsure of where he was actually going, but knowing that he wanted as much space between himself and that wretched noise as possible. The only thing he could really think to do was to look for Mark’s room. This was his childhood home after all, so he must have a room somewhere. Right?

As it turned out, he certainly did, and it was easy to find. The door clearly advertised its once teenaged occupant as it was plastered with a sign that designated the space as “property of Mark Beak”’ as well as displaying a very cliché KEEP OUT warning which Falcon promptly ignored. He pressed his back against the door to close it, his body hitting the wood with enough force to slam the barrier closed. Someone might have heard, but Falcon didn’t even have the strength to worry about that as all of his attention was currently focused on keeping his building panic attack at bay.

This had to be some sort of celestial punishment. Perhaps some higher power had finally cashed in on every receipt they had against him and now saw fit to discipline him for his many crimes. How else could this situation be so perfectly stacked against him? Digging up every one of his insecurities was a cruel way for the world to reward him for his courage to meet Mark’s family in the first place, and his emotions were in such an extreme state that he could no longer control them. It wasn’t something that happened often, but when it did it was crippling. He just needed to be alone, he told himself, just a few minutes alone and it would pass.

Falcon choked back a sob, gripping at his arms as he rushed further into the room and finally collapsed beside Mark’s bed. It put at least some sort of barrier between him and the door, and at the moment that was all he could think to do.  

It had only been a few minutes since he rushed out on the family meal, but already faint footsteps were drawing nearer in search of him. There was a soft knock at the door and ignoring it obviously wasn’t going to deter the bird outside as Falcon could hear it creak open slightly when no acknowledgement was offered.

“Falcon?” Mark said as he stuck his beak through the small gap. He opened the door wider when he didn’t receive an immediate response. “You in here?”

“…No.”

Mark rolled his eyes at the reply. “Oh yeah, that’s super convincing,” he said as he moved towards the location of that familiar voice.

“Just leave me be!” Falcon snapped when he sensed the other man drawing nearer.

The demand stopped Mark in his tracks. That hurt. Sure, Falcon was prone to wanting his space when he was feeling moody, but this was different. This wasn’t like him at all. “Hey, come on, Gravesy,” he said, once again attempting to move closer, “I know the fam is kinda _extra_ , bu—”

“I SAID LEAVE!”

Mark was once again frozen in place. It was as if every ounce of blood in his body had literally iced over leaving him incapable of moving at all. “Wh-what the hell is wrong with you?!” he finally managed.

“Nothing!”

He was avoiding things again. This was what Falcon always did when Mark would come close to hitting a particularly sensitive nerve and it had tears building in Mark’s eyes as it pulled his frustration to the surface. “Why won’t you talk to me?!” he said, the building tears echoing in his voice.

“Because there’s nothing to talk about!”

“The hell there isn’t! Why are you hiding things from me?!”

“Because I don’t want you to see me like this, okay?!”

There was a choked sound of anguish at the end of that sentence, and it instantly made Mark’s blood thaw. _That’s_ why he was being so extra evasive this time? He swallowed thickly, inching carefully forward towards his old bed where he could see hints of familiar lightly silvered hair sticking up over the mattress. He was sure Falcon knew he was coming, and he took his silence to mean that he wasn’t going to resist this time. Mark peeked somewhat apprehensively around the bed and was immediately greeted by a sight he never really expected to see. Falcon was curled in on himself, pulling his large body into as much of a ball as he could manage so that he could rest his beak on his knees while he tried his best not to hyperventilate. He was more or less successful, but his breathing was still labored and his entire body shook with every inhale. He didn’t even look like himself.

It took a moment, but Falcon finally dared to face the concerned gaze of his lover, cringing in on himself even more at that look of worry on Mark’s face. He didn’t like this. He was supposed to be the protector; he was supposed to be strong, and having Mark there to bear witness to his shamefully exposed fragility made his stomach churn.

“I said,” Falcon choked out, “that I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Oh, Falcon,” Mark soothed, swiftly moving closer when he moved to hide his face in his knees.

Falcon shook his head in response. A muffled groan sounded against his well-tailored pants, but he offered nothing in the way of actual words to ease Mark’s concern. Speaking was too difficult. Flashes from his childhood invaded his every thought, ripping up the past and forcing it into a head on collision with the present, and it was taking every ounce of Falcon’s concentration to keep it at bay. Old wounds that Falcon had stitched shut long ago were ripped open leaving him feeling barer than he ever had before. Every bit of his energy went into keeping some semblance of composure, and it rendered him capable of producing little more than a muffled slew of miserable noises that may or may not have been actual words.

Mark’s brow furrowed at the reaction. He sat on the bed, somewhat unsure what to do. In all his selfish years he had focused so exclusively on his own needs that he was rather clueless on how to go about helping others, but for Falcon he would try his best. His body began to move, apparently without much deliberate thought, to coax Falcon into leaning against his leg. He threaded his fingers in his dark hair and stoked gently. The heavy sigh Falcon let out clearly said that it was exactly what he needed.

“Talk to me,” Mark pleaded softly.

The request was met with silence.

“… you don’t have to be tough _all_ the time, you know,” Mark added when Falcon refused to answer.

“YES, I do,” Falcon said through gritted teeth. “It’s my job to protect you.”

“There’s nothing to protect me from here! Well, besides complete and utter humiliation at the hands of my family I guess, but other than the possibility that I’ll be mentally scarred by a relative, I don’t think there’s much for you to worry about right now. So you can chill on the tough guy routine for just a little while, okay?”

Falcon was silent but he was obviously mulling that over, and it prompted Mark to continue in an attempt to actually get his boyfriend talking. “I’m sorry, Gravesy. I know they’re embarrassing, I just—”

“It’s not that,” Falcon interrupted, “I mean, they are, _tremendously_ so, but if I can handle you I can survive them.”

Mark smiled genuinely at the brief smirk that Falcon gave, relieved that he seemed to be calming down even if only slightly. “Then what is it?”  

Falcon tensed once again. It was obvious he was still very hesitant to unload his baggage like that. Better to leave it locked away, he told himself. It wasn’t something anyone else was supposed to see… but then again, Mark wasn’t just _anyone_ else.

A deep breath finally helped calm Falcon’s shaking. The sound of Mark’s voice in his head reminded him to keep breathing, and it combined with the very real feeling of those loving fingers still stroking his hair. “It’s just… the yelling,” he whispered.

Now that left Mark confused. “Dude, that’s just how they are. It’s not like they’re _actually_ mad or anything.”

“I know that,” Falcon quickly responded, finally unfolding his body so he lean more comfortably against Mark. “I just wasn’t prepared for it.”

Falcon sighed heavily when the expression on Mark’s face clearly said he still didn’t understand. He moved from the floor, braving his own insecurities to join Mark on the bed. It felt better to be closer to him; he needed that closeness now more than ever, and Mark could tell. He immediately pulled Falcon against him, leaning back against the headboard so that the larger bird could tuck his head beneath his chin. Falcon’s hand wandered, slowly sneaking behind Mark’s back as if engaging in some sort of subterfuge. It wasn’t, Mark knew exactly what Falcon was doing, but it made the raptor feel better to be subtle about it. Still, Mark flicked his tail to the side, silently giving his currently uncomfortable boyfriend better access to the safety blanket he was after. The relieved sound that slipped from Falcon’s beak was evidence of how badly he needed it.

Tense fingers rubbed the silky, red appendage slowly but with a fierce desperation as Falcon slowly pieced together enough nerve to finally tell Mark what was actually wrong. “You know that I’m rather estranged from my family.” It wasn’t a question, but Falcon could feel Mark nod nonetheless. “Well… when I was young, my father—” The word nearly made him gag and Falcon put his hand to his mouth in fear that the disgusting flavor of it might turn into actual vomit.

Mark winced at the way the slipup made Falcon yank his tail roughly, but he held tighter and ignored the pain so that he could at least attempt to calm the other man’s shaking. 

It was a pathetic reaction, but Falcon couldn’t help it. He had never called him that. Not even when he still lived under his rule. The man was a sperm donor at best, and at worst… well, Falcon didn’t particularly like thinking about that. There were no terms of endearment between them, only “yes sir” and “as you wish” and to refer to him in such a way nearly undid every bit of comforting that Mark had accomplished. “ _Lanner_ ,” Falcon amended. “He…” Falcon tried to continue but found the subconscious fear of his father blocking up his throat and preventing any truth from being set free. Real men eat their emotions, after all… or so Lanner had taught him.

“He was abusive. Wasn’t he?” Mark prompted.

“Not exactly… that is…it was mostly emotional.”

“That still counts, Falcon!”

Falcon could feel Mark’s vehement scowl and it was somehow comforting to know that this mental pain from the past could coax out that darker side of Mark that Falcon rather enjoyed (if he was being honest with himself). It made him feel special. More than that, it eased him gently into a more open place, giving him the courage to bare those old wounds with the reassurance that Mark would help them heal. 

“I wasn’t allowed to be soft,” Falcon said. “Anything I did that was remotely “unmanly” was disgusting and I was punished for it. My unquestionable masculinity was the only thing that mattered.”

“Pfft, as if. Toxic masculinity is _so_ last year. Gender nonconformity is all the rage these days.”

Falcon smirked at the feisty retort. “And yet you’re still too shy to wear a skirt outside one of your stupid anime cons,” he teased.

“Ooo, low blow, Gravesy.”

Falcon chuckled, nuzzling his beak into Mark’s chest and breathing deeply to take in the soothing scent of the other man before pulling himself away with a sigh. “It’s not like it was pleasant at the best of times, but when he was mad enough to yell… well, it wasn’t good.”

“That’s when things got physical?”

“…usually.”

Mark shuddered. “Yeesh, he must be a beast if he can scare YOU this bad.”

“You have no idea,” Falcon said quietly. “Yelling only ever meant that something horrible was going to happen. It’s never triggered me quite like this, but then again, I’ve never been trapped with so many screeching parrots before. I guess… my emotions just got the better of me.”

Mark ceased his petting in favor of wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend. “It’s okay to feel, Gravesy,” he whispered.

Falcon didn’t respond, but the shaky sob of relief he did produce was answer enough for both of them. “ _Thank you_ ,” it said, “ _I needed to hear that_.”

There was a long moment of silence. They were content in that moment to merely appreciate one another’s closeness

“You know you can tell me anything,” Mark said as he gently stroked Falcon’s hair back into its usual state of groomed perfection.

“Yes, I know.” _It’s just difficult._ The last part was not spoken aloud, but they both knew it was implied.

Falcon breathed in a shaky breath as he finally pulled away from the embrace and sat at the edge of the bed. He glanced around to help distract himself from the shame that still lingered. Needless to say he had been a bit too preoccupied when he had entered the room to notice much of anything, but now that he was actually taking the time to investigate the place where Mark had spent his adolescence he found it rather diverting. It was pretty much exactly how Falcon would have expected. Various anime characters stared down at him from every wall, imprisoned within shiny posters or trapped behind glass barriers in the form of collectable figurines that Mark continually insisted weren’t toys. Falcon begged to differ, but he had learned long ago to pick his battles very carefully. His eyes wandered further, taking note of every small corner of the space. It had obviously been left exactly as it was when Mark had moved out because there was still old school books scattered around along with an aged computer now trapped forever in a state of incomplete modification, its wiry entrails spilled across the desk where Mark had spent countless hours in his largely friendless childhood.

Really it wasn’t all that different from Mark’s current taste in decor, but yet, it increased Falcon’s growing need to know more about his boyfriend’s past. Not that Mark hadn’t talked about it, but the extended interaction with his family had made Falcon realize how superficial so many of those stories had really been; it made him realize how much more he still had to learn.  

Despite all the contemplating, Falcon could manage only a simple observation in response to Mark’s prying stare. “Your room is super nerdy,” he noted.

Mark looked somewhat embarrassed by that as he gave his old room a cursory once over. “Yeeeah… I suppose you were probably the manly jock type, eh?”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s fairly accurate,” Falcon answered. There was a moment of silence where Mark’s face failed to hide his hurt over the fact that Falcon was still so guarded about his personal history. Falcon sighed heavily at the weight of that realization. “It was expected of me.”

It was the best he could offer at the moment, and Mark did his best not to pry more despite wanting very much to know more. “So I guess I won’t be meeting your family, huh?” he asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Heh, Lanner would break your tiny body in half,” Falcon chuckled. “But I would very much like for you to meet my sister. She _has_ been bugging me about it.” 

“OoooOoo, I finally get to meet the fabled little sister?!”

“Only if you’re a good boy,” Falcon whispered into his ear.

Mark groaned low and exaggerated. “I freaking love it when you say that,” he said with a pleased shiver.

Falcon smirked at the unabashed display of desire. “Mmm, you don’t say,” he teased.

Mark chirped excitedly when Falcon suddenly pulled him closer, preening his head feathers sweetly as his fingers went back to stroking his tail. That stroking was different than before. It had changed from caressing to fondling and it was obviously seeking to elicit a different form of comfort now. Mark wanted nothing more than to oblige. He nuzzled deep into Falcon’s chest, smiling dreamily at the familiar scent of Falcon’s cologne that saturated those feathers before pulling away to aim an impish look at his companion. “Care to make a boyhood fantasy come true?” Mark purred with a smirk on his face and a waggle in his brow.

It took a second for those words to sink in, but with each syllable that settled in his brain, Falcon’s eyes grew wider and his face flushed deeper. “ _HERE_? In your old bed… with your _entire_ family downstairs?!”

“Uh, yeah, that a problem?”

“How is any of that NOT a problem?”

“I just think my old bed deserves some action, don’t you?”

“NO.”

“Promise I’ll be quite.”

“You’re never quiet!”

“I thought you liked that.”

“Well… yes, but that is hardly the point!”

“But you want to,” Mark said naughtily. “Make love,” he clarified in a soft whisper with an even softer nibble of Falcon’s neck—just the place he liked.

Falcon demonstrated his appreciation with a moan. “I… yes,” he finally admitted quietly, “but this is hardly our normal environment for lovemaking.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point, Gravesy.”

Falcon didn’t look quite convinced.

“Come on, Falcon. For once in your uptight spy, guy existence just roll with it, will ya?” “Some quality Beaks time will cure what ails you.”

Falcon still wasn’t quite sure about that, but no cure sounded more appealing than some quality time with his beloved parrot, and so he gave in with a soft nod, eyes slipping shut as Mark leaned in close. 

* * *

 

It was bliss. That heat so close to him felt like fire against his overheated skin, but instead of searing it soothed, and Falcon wanted nothing more than to stay in that contented afterglow forever.

A love smitten smile brushed against Falcon’s chest feathers as Mark snuggled closer with a contented sigh. “You okay, big guy?”

It was the second time he had asked that today, but this time Falcon smiled in response. “Yes,” he answered as he lazily preened Mark’s head feathers. “You’re an excellent cure-all.”

Mark smirked at the playful response. He opened his mouth to respond but barely managed a single syllable before his moment was stolen by the genetic basis of his own boisterous attitude.

“MARCUS!” Vivienne screamed from downstairs, “If you boys are done having sex come down here! Everyone wants to leave!”

That simple (but embarrassingly invasive) comment from his mother was all it took to completely shatter the moment. Both birds groaned in unison as their bodies flushed from a much less pleasant source of heat.

“OMG my family sucks so hard,” Mark groaned. “Guess we better get back down there.”

“… Is it _entirely_ necessary?”

“Well, I mean, unless you’d rather mom come up _here_ and bother us. Because she totes will.”

The wide-eyed and horrified expression on Falcon’s face was enough to make Mark snicker in amusement, but the abrupt loss of his boyfriend’s body heat quickly turned his pleased smile into a disapproving frown. He turned onto his stomach, fiddling anxiously with a loose thread on the bed as he waited for Falcon to explain the abrupt departure. Mark’s head cocked curiously when Falcon entered his bathroom, suddenly feeling stupid when the sound of running water made it obvious what his intentions had been. Falcon always was more attentive to inconvenient little things like post-coitus cleanup.

One quick sponge bath later both men were once again fully dressed and presentable enough to once again face Mark’s family. Not that the lack of evidence of their activities made Falcon feel much better considering the fact that they were all probably well aware of it anyway, but at least the departure of Mark’s many aunts and cousins was relatively uneventful. Falcon could almost hear the whole house sigh happily when it was relieved of its excess of occupants. Soon only Ted and Nora remained. They were apparently too wrapped up in a heated discussion of opinionated differences to even notice that anyone else had left, but Falcon quickly deduced that this was hardly out of the ordinary as Mark and his parents didn’t pay it any mind at all.

Instead Vivienne seemed more interested in invading their personal space in a way that only someone of Mark’s lineage would be capable of. “Soooo,” she said in a tone that attempted to feign innocence. “How ‘bout that lube?”

Mark eyed his mother with a vehemence that Falcon had been previously unaware he was capable of, but he wasn’t given a chance to let that fury free as Tad was already playing peacemaker once again. “Stop it, Viv, you’re embarrassing them,” he said as he pulled his wife away from the flushed couple.

“Oh, they’re fine,” Vivienne replied dismissively.

“Yeah, well… you’re embarrassing _me_ ,” Tad mumbled.

In spite of his naturally red hue, Vivienne could see the soft blush on her husband’s face, and it made her smile like a smitten school girl. She leaned down, fingers buried in Tad’s feathers and her beak against his ear as she spoke softly. “But crimson is such a lovely color on you, darling,” she purred as she twirled his neck feathers between her fingers. “And it’s _totally_ in this season.”

Tad blushed deeper, truly turning crimson as his wife continued to nibble at his feathers and whisper in his ear. “Vivi, _please_ ,” he whispered with a barely audible laugh, “You promised you wouldn’t do this in front of company.” The sharp butt pinch that she answered with quickly cleared any sense of amusement Tad was feeling making him jump with an unbecoming squeak. “VIV!”

Mark groaned, long and low. “Ew, ew, ewwww, get a room! Precious only child here getting mentally scarred by your parental grossness!”

“Aaah! That reminds me!” Vivienne said excitedly before rushing off to the adjacent room where Ted and Nora were currently arguing.

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?” Mark said with a grimace.

Falcon wasn’t so sure he liked the sound of it either, but when Vivienne quickly reappeared with a large photo album in hand and an excited bounce in her step the feeling instantly switched from dread to unexpected anticipation.

Mark obviously didn’t share his enthusiasm. “Don’t you dare,” he warned. 

The empty threat obviously wasn’t enough to deter his mother even the slightest as she was soon holding the album in front of Falcon temptingly. “Aw, come on. I think your lovely boyfriend deserves some adorable baby pictures after having to put up with your bratty butt for this long, don’t you?”

“NO! I-” Whatever retaliation Mark had planned on was cut short, defused instantly by the strong hands that gripped his beak shut and held him hostage while he struggled in vain.

“I would _love_ to see some family photos, Mrs. Beaks,” Falcon insisted in spite of his boyfriend’s muffled objections. His mischievous grin earned him a glare from Mark, but he paid it little mind even when he released the struggling parrot in favor of joining his mother.

Vivienne squeed excitedly. “I just knew you would!” she said, grabbing Falcon’s arm and pulling him away from his now horrified partner.

 Mark groaned theatrically, dropping himself onto the adjacent loveseat as he hid his face in his hands. “Kill me now,” he moaned.

Tad patted his shoulder with a soft chuckle. “Want a latte son?” he offered.

“No,” Mark said as he crossed his arms over his chest angrily, “I want something stronger.”

“Irish coffee it is.”

Mark sunk deeper into his seat as his mother flipped through picture after picture of what Mark knew first hand was horrendously embarrassing content. Glaring at his phone did very little to drown out her cringe-worthy stories, and even the coffee his father returned with did little to help despite its obviously high alcohol content. Continued attempts to pretend his many social media accounts were more interesting than whatever his mother was saying proved ineffective, and he was finally sucked into one particularly painful story from his past.

“And there’s his first skirt!” Vivienne gushed, putting a hand to her cheek and sighing at the pleasant memories. “He used to love spending time with mommy in her sewing room. He was always asking me to make him cute little outfits. I swear I never met a four year old with such fastidious taste in Sailor Loon cosplay.”

Falcon aimed an impish grin at Mark. “Some things never change,” he said with a wink.

Mark pouted even harder at the playful display, but despite the burning in his cheeks he couldn’t deny that it was nice to finally see Falcon enjoying himself. Even if it was from amusement at his expense.

Vivienne turned the page in apparent ignorance of their exchange, eager to show off more precious memories. “Oh, and that one was his absolute favorite,” she continued, singling out a particularly beloved photo. “Took me _months_ to get him to stop wearing that one. Didn’t take it off until he developed that butt rash that he had for like a week.” 

Distantly, Falcon could hear his boyfriend begging his mother to stop in a rather unbecoming whine, but he was too drawn in by that specific picture to even register that mother and son were now bickering. He was too lost in those impossibly large eyes, too enraptured with that whole-hearted grin, and too smitten with that childish innocence. This was a Mark he didn’t know. Or rather he did, but it was a side of Mark that even he had a difficult time coaxing out. There was a self-confidence there that present Mark could only imitate, and it had Falcon smiling wistfully at that young boy who was grinning broadly and holding his pink skirt out in an enthusiastic pride for his favorite attire. It was beautiful to see him so untainted by the world.

Mark could feel his temperature rise at that enamored look on his lover’s face, but it wasn’t in an entirely unpleasant way. Still, he anxiously scratched at phantom itches as he begged any deity that would listen to make his mother temporarily mute. No help came from above, but it did come from the other room.

“Mark, Bubby wants to leave,” Tad said as he briefly returned from playing diplomat. “Come say goodbye.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Mark responded, relieved. “Come on, Gravesy, time to bail on this snoozefest.”

Falcon would hardly label such an emotional evening in such a way, but he had to admit, being alone with Mark once again sounded extremely appealing. Still, he found himself staring down at the photo album in disappointment. He wanted to know more about Mark’s childhood. He craved it, and that desire had him stroking that sweet picture with a forlorn furrow of his brow.

Vivienne smiled sweetly at the obvious attachment. She was finally starting to see the bond that her husband had so easily picked up on. “You can keep that, sweetie,” she offered with a wink. “My treat.” 

Falcon flushed. “I couldn’t.”

“Oh, nonsense. I insist.” Even as she said it Vivienne was already removing the picture from its plastic bindings so she could entrust it to the one person she knew would enjoy it more than her.

A dreamy smile was her reward, and for just a moment, Falcon shared some sense of that childlike candor. “Thank you, Mrs. Beaks.” His tone was soft, but it did nothing to dampen the deep sound of genuine gratitude.

“My pleasure,” Vivienne replied.

She gathered up the book and left without another word, leaving Falcon momentarily isolated where he could smile goofily at that picture without fear of judgment. The sound of Mark impatiently calling for him soon had Falcon rejoining the others but not before hiding the photo in his jacket where it wouldn’t be instantly confiscated by his boyfriend. He entered the foyer to the surprising sight of a limo outside that had pulled up the drive to collect Nora. Somehow everyone had neglected to tell him that she such a rich and influential force, but suddenly several things made a whole lot more sense including the reason why Mark seemed to be the only one in the family she deemed worthy. She was fussing with her great nephew much as she had before, but a reference to him was what really caught Falcon’s attention.

“Now, you’re sure about this one, Mark dear?” Nora said as she smoothed Mark’s recently re-adorned jacket into a more presentable state.

“Hells yeah,” Mark answered arrogantly.

“I don’t want to see this one end up like all the others.” Nora caught Falcon’s eye, gaze moving slowly down his body in an apparent final evaluation of the man who had stolen her nephew’s heart. “Although I must admit he _is_ the most handsome,” she said with a smirk. “You _sure_ you’re gay, sweetie?”

Falcon flushed slightly at the bold manner she chose to address him in, but chuckled at it anyway. “Yes, ma’am, still very gay.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. Call me if you change your mind,” Nora replied with a wink and a cockeyed smile.

Falcon couldn’t help but return the grin with one of his own. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“You take good care of my favorite nephew, ya hear?” she replied, hooking her arm with Mark’s and giving him an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be checking in.”

Falcon smirked. “It will be my pleasure,” he said with a wink at his boyfriend.

Mark flushed with a love smitten grin, staring dreamily at his bodyguard and barely noticing when his aunt began to lead him in the opposite direction.

“Come Mark, dear. Escort a lady to her car.”

“Sure thing, Bubby.”

“You got a good one there, Mark. Don’t fuck it up now,” Bubby whispered with a side glance at her nephew.

“Yeah, I sure do,” Mark said dreamily, eyes still cast over his shoulder where the love of his life was patiently awaiting his return. “And I’m keeping him forever.”

 


End file.
